


Thesival Prompts

by Descaladumidera



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol, Auror Power Duo, Blood, Fluff, Forgiveness, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Soft Kisses, they are soft boys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-07 06:04:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 14,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11617473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Descaladumidera/pseuds/Descaladumidera
Summary: Different Thesival prompts I got on Tumblr.





	1. Prompt 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Anonymous:_ Percival writing to Theseus (because who else can he trust when nobody noticed) for the first time in years after he's found and Theseus almost forgetting his own name when he sees who just sent him a letter. 12 hours later the Minister gets a request from his Head Auror to be allowed on the team for the America mission. Seraphina seeing Theseus walking through MACUSA and just rolling her eyes thinking 'here we go again'.

Theseus’ hands were trembling, his lips a thin line, while he stared at the words written on the white sheet of paper. He had heard about the havoc Grindelwald had wreaked in New York, had heard that the bastard had tried to kill his little brother, had heard that he had impersonated his best friend. Theseus had desperately wanted to go to New York back then, had wanted to make sure that Percival was okay. He had even wanted to at least send a letter.

But he had been too much of a coward to act on his desires.

For months he had written back and forth with someone who he had assumed to be Percival—it had been Grindelwald. Of course. Theseus felt shame flood his body once again, like every time he thought about the fact that he hadn’t been able to tell his own friend apart from a mad man.

And now he held Percival’s letter in his own hands—his friend had written to him when Theseus had been to afraid to make the first step. He could feel his cheeks heating up, ashamed of himself beyond belief. _Fine Auror you are, Scamander. Fine friend you are_ , he thought and closed his eyes, heaving a shaking breath, before he put the letter away on his desk.

Suddenly he felt very tired, his head aching, and he hid his face in his hands. His shoulders sagged and he let out a silent groan, rubbing his eyes frantically with the palms of his hands. He knew what he had to do—but he didn’t know if he had the courage to face Percival after he had failed him so terribly as a friend.

‘I wonder if you can forgive me …’ He muttered and sighed before he took out parchment, ink and quill. A few Aurors would be sent to America to aid them in the aftermath of Grindelwald’s doings—and Theseus intended to join them. He had to make up for failing Percival after all. At least he had to apologise.

And so he spent the rest of his day writing a request for joining the team of Aurors, fully intending on giving it to Minister Fawley in the morning. But regardless of Fawley’s answer—he would go. A smile crept onto his face when he thought about Newton’s words, ‘You are a force to be reckoned with, ‘Seus. Nobody in the whole ministry would deny you anything. And if they do, you would just ignore them.’ Oh, his little brother didn’t know how right his words were. Theseus would go. He would face Percival. And he would apologise.

* * *

The next morning, right at 8 o’clock, Theseus was standing in Minister Fawley’s office, his request on the desk. Fawley’s eyes scanned the parchment, his forehead wrinkling. But when he looked up and into Theseus’ eyes, he could only see determination and the will to go against the ministry to get what he wanted. Theseus smiled as Fawley signed his request with a sigh.

* * *

Half an hour later he was ready, standing in his office with his team of Aurors and the portkey that would bring them to New York. The team had only now been informed that their Head Auror would come with them, leading the mission—much to the displeasure of Chief Auror Cockburn who had initially been in charge of everything. Theseus threw him an apologetic smile—he wasn’t coming with them to steal Cockburn’s mission after all, but to help his friend.

It only took a ‘Ready, everyone?’ and a tap with his wand to activate the portkey—an old ink pot—to suck them all away to new York. Intercontinental travelling via magic had never been Theseus’ favourite thing to do as it made him nauseous, but it was the fastest way to get to Percival. He could hardly travel via ship. It would take him over a week to arrive. But with a portkey it took mere seconds until they landed on foreign ground, one of the Juniors stumbling and nearly falling, but Theseus grabbed his arm and steadied him in an instant.

He looked around, taking in his surroundings. They were at MACUSA’s _Department of International Travelling_ , a witch already waiting for them, smiling at him. He smiled back at her and then turned to his Aurors, giving them the order to follow him. Their first stop would be the _Department of Magical Law Enforcement_. He would leave them there and go straight to Percival’s office. And then they would talk. An icy sensation filled his bones and suddenly he felt sick. But no. He would face Percival and he would apologise. If his friend didn’t want to see him anymore than he would accept it and go on. It would be difficult but he hardly had a choice.

‘Alright, come on,’ he said and turned to the witch, handing her an envelope from the minister, explaining why they were here. She would deliver it to the right person. With a nod she took it from him and gestured for the door, telling Theseus that the elevator was to the left. With a ‘Thank you’ they left, heading for the DMLE.

As soon as they arrived at the right floor, Theseus left his Aurors to fend for themselves and headed straight for Percival’s office. Dread flooded him and he wanted to hide in the next toilet and vomit. He couldn’t face Percival. Not after everything he had done. Not now. No. He needed to leave. Now. Immediately. Oh, Merlin, have mercy.

_Get a grip on yourself, Scamander! He is your friend!_ He told himself, his hands were trembling again and his heart was beating rapidly in his chest, pumping blood through his veins in a speed that made him dizzy. _At least he was your friend …_

He took a deep breath and knocked, waiting anxiously to be called in. But when Percival’s steady voice came through the door, Theseus wanted to turn on his heels and run away. His traitorous body on the other hand had other plans and opened the door.

‘Oh no.’

Well. That wasn’t the reaction Theseus had hoped for. But that wasn’t the voice of his friend either. ‘Hello, Seraphina, nice to see you too,’ he said with a smile but the President only rolled her eyes, bid Percival goodbye and left the office, making Theseus chuckle. At least that hadn’t changed in all the years.

‘Do you always feel the need to offend my president?’ An amused voice asked and Theseus closed the door behind himself and walked over to the desk.

‘She is offended by just seeing me—I can hardly do anything against it,’ he countered in good humour and watched as Percival stood up and rounded the desk, stopping right before Theseus with an unsure smile.

‘It’s good to see you, old friend,’ he said quietly and Theseus could have cried. Percival most certainly didn’t even know that everything was Theseus’ fault. _He_ had written to Grindelwald. _He_ hadn’t noticed that his friend had been impersonated. _He_ had told Grindelwald that Newton could help with the beast wreaking havoc in New York. It was _his_ fault. Everything was his fault.

‘I’m sorry!’ He choked out and wrapped his arms around Percival, the other man instinctively pulling him into a hug while Theseus buried his face against Percival’s shoulder, the soft fabric of his friend’s waistcoat stopping his tears from falling. His heart ached, breathing was hard and his body began to shake apart. And here was this man, his wonderful friend, holding him together. It should be the other way around but Theseus was pathetic. And he knew it. ‘I’m so, _so_ sorry.’

It was quiet for some time. It was quiet for so long that Theseus became even more anxious. Slowly. And then … ‘What for, Theseus?’


	2. Prompt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Anonymous:_ Percival going on a mission to England and he thinks that he'll surprise Theseus, but Theseus isn't at work. So he gets his adress and goes over to his apartment. He finds Theseus really drunk after a bad break-up. Theseus thinks he's hallucinating that the man he always should have made a move on is there, and so he confesses his feelings. Percival can't believe what he's hearing.

Coming out of the most recent meeting with the Congress should have Percival tired. But instead of internally cursing the idiots who tried to run his country, he was smiling.

‘Happy with the outcome?’ Seraphina walked up next to him and nudged him gently in the side, not talking to him as the President but as his friend.

‘Yes, very,’ he replied and looked at her, his expression pleased. For weeks now he and Seraphina had pressured the Congress into sending some Aurors to Britain to help with the Grindelwald case. And now they had finally crumbled and accepted the suggestion—Percival would be the best man to catch Grindelwald after all, having been his prisoner for two months and knowing how the mad man worked.

‘Theseus will have a field day when you finally come over. He is pestering you for years now but you could never make it.’

‘I don’t intend to tell him—it will be a surprise when he sees me.’ Percival wondered briefly how Theseus would react when he suddenly turned up in his office. Probably with a shout of glee and a bone-crushing hug. Not that Percival would object to such a greeting.

‘I don’t envy Fawley when you both wreak havoc in London,’ Seraphina said and when Percival looked at her he could see the hint of a smirk on her beautiful face.

‘Oh, shut up. Don’t you have a meeting or something?’

* * *

A week later and Percival was standing in the Ministry of Magic—to be exact: in Theseus’ office. But Theseus wasn’t there and it took one of the Aurors to tell Percival that his friend had taken the day off and was most likely at home.

‘That isn’t anything like Theseus,’ Percival said with a frown and stared the poor Auror, who happened to stumble upon him, down.

The Auror, fidgeting with some papers in his hands—probably more or less important reports—looked away nervously. ‘Scamander had a … bad break-up. His gal had an affair and dumped him for the new guy. We don’t think he took it too well. Probably needs a day or two to get back on track.’

Percival’s interested expression immediately changed into a pained one before he could school his features. Sympathy cursed through him. If Theseus loved someone, he loved fiercely. He was kindhearted and loyal and everyone who was blessed with his love should feel honoured. Percival couldn’t even think of a reason why anyone should cheat on him. Percival could only guess how much his friend was hurting right now.

He thought back to the war and how they had met, how they had formed a close bond. How they had become closer than mere friends. Percival thought about late nights spent in the same bed under the same sheets, thought about fast pounding hearts and shared kisses. He thought about Theseus’ pale, freckled skin, shivering under his touches, thought about their bodies moving in rhythm.

They had never been in a relationship but they had been lovers and they had parted on good terms. They had stayed friends. And it pained Percival to think about how much Theseus was suffering right now.

Without another word he turned around and left.

* * *

Theseus lay slouched down on his couch, an empty bottle of firewhiskey dangling from his hand, another lying under his table on the dark red carpet. He didn’t know if he had really drunk all of it or if some of it had been swallowed by said carpet. He found that he didn’t care much.

The tears he had shed before had long dried down and made his face feel weird but he didn’t have the energy to clean himself up. He was still wearing his clothes from the day before, all rumpled and dirty, smelling of old sweat. He felt disgusting.

_Don’t deserve it otherwise, Scamander. You can’t be a good person if Harriet left you for someone else_ , he thought, his head feeling dizzy. He couldn’t even wallow in self-pity anymore because it _had_ to be his fault, right? How could Harriet be at fault? She was perfect. She was … She was gone.

And the tears fell again, sobs shaking his body while he curled up on the couch, the second bottle joining the first one beneath the table as soon as he wrapped his arms around himself. What did he do to deserve this? He had loved Harriet with all his heart, had even introduced her to his family. Even though Newton had told him that he didn’t really love Harriet. But what did his brother know about love?

_Apparently more than you_ , a small voice in his head piped up but he shut it down. He didn’t want to think about Newton right now. He wanted to think about nothing. Just cry.

Theseus didn’t even hear the key that was turned in the lock of his flat, nor did he hear someone coming in. He was too focused on bawling his eyes out, the alcohol in his system making him numb to his surroundings. Nothing was important anyway.

‘Theseus?’

Oh great. Now he began to imagine things. Theseus slowly lifted his head and—there was Percival. Standing right next to the couch, staring down at Theseus with sympathy lacing his handsome features. But that couldn’t be. Was he starting to imagine things? Percival had to be a hallucination, produced by his alcohol induced brain.

‘Whatcha doin’ here?’ Theseus slurred and tried to sit up, not even thinking about why he should even talk to a mere hallucination of his best friend. But he needed the comfort right now. His brain knew best what he needed in this situation—the comfort of having someone important to him nearby. He ignored the irony that this someone was the man he had loved with all his heart and mind since the war had come to give him strength after his current love had left him.

Percival got down on one knee right next to the couch and Theseus wanted to scream when his imaginary friend wiped the tears from his face, gently, his thumb caressing Theseus’ sensitive skin. It felt so real and he leaned into the touch, yearned for some physical contact.

‘You look like shit, old friend,’ the image of Percival said softly and nudged Theseus until he made place for his friend on the couch, sitting up slowly. And then warm arms wrapped around him and even if they weren’t real, Theseus leaned into them and let the tears fall, wetting Percival’s shirt and waistcoat in the process. But it felt so good to just let go, to press himself against someone he trusted, to know that someone cared.

* * *

Percival wasn’t sure what to do, he just followed his instincts. And when Theseus pressed himself desperately against him, he sighed and relaxed, holding his friend close. This was a situation they had never shared before and he felt uncomfortable. But Theseus was his friend and he would do anything for him.

‘Y’know wha’s fun– funny?’ Percival had to listen closely to understand Theseus’ slurred words. He wondered briefly how much his friend had actually consumed but the two bottles lying on the carpet gave him an idea.

‘No. What’s funny?’

‘That … Tha– that I imagine you bein’ here. The one I … I’ve loved since we firs’ fugged. An’ you’re … you’re con– cong– comfortin’ me ’cause Ha– Harriet left me,’ Theseus said, his voice faint. With all the stammering and slurring and the smell of alcohol it was really hard to understand what Theseus tried to say. But Percival understood the most important part.

And his brain stopped working. He didn’t know what to say. Theseus had just confessed his love to him and Percival felt helpless—how should he react? Panic was rising in his chest. he wanted to do something, wanted to say something, wanted to … wanted to …

‘Lu– luggily you’re not re– real.’

Oh.

Percival’s heart sank into his stomach.


	3. Prompt 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Anonymous:_ Percival escaped from where (somewhere near London) Grindelwald held him. It's pouring down and Percival passes out in a ditch and gets sick. Theseus is the one who finds him, but Percival has lost his memory thanks to the sickness. Theseus brings him home anyway and helps him get better. One night Theseus kisses him bc he can't resist. Percival wakes up, looks at him and says 2 words. "I remember"

Theseus felt numb. Maybe it was because of the alcohol he was consuming right now. Maybe it was because of the man currently sleeping on his couch. The man who didn’t remember anything—not even his name.

‘What happened to you, old friend?’ Theseus whispered into his glass and watched the rising and falling of Percival’s chest, watched the slightly open mouth and the slowly greying hair. And for the umpteenth time he wondered what had happened before he had found him. What had made his friend like this. Because this wasn’t the Percival Graves he had met in the war. This wasn’t the Percival Graves he had maintained a great friendship with over the years. This wasn’t the Percival Graves he had fallen for so many years ago.

‘Fuck!’ He cursed under his breath and put his glass on the table with a bit too much force, firewhiskey splattering on the wooden surface. Then he buried his face in his hands, rubbing frantically to calm his nerves. Once again everything replayed in his mind.

He had been walking home from the Ministry of Magic last Friday night, thinking about getting a nightcap—luckily the stupid idea of prohibition hadn’t crossed the pond yet. But before he had gotten to his favourite pub, he had heard muffled coughing from an alley. He was usually one to just throw a few coins to the homeless and walk away, but he couldn’t ignore if someone was actually sick. And with the cold, wet winter weather in London an ordinary cold could turn into something far more dangerous. Theseus hadn’t been able to just look away.

With caution he had walked into the dark alley, always ready to draw his wand if necessary. But what he had seen had him nearly fainting. In a puddle, having been dressed in nothing more than torn pants and a dirty shirt, had been Percival. He had looked a right mess, beard grown all over his handsome features, hair long and matted, wounds all over his body, blood oozing out of some of them, others clogged with dirt. He had looked malnourished, the wet shirt clinging to his very visible ribs. Theseus heart had ached.

It had been a matter of minutes to get Percival to St. Mungo’s.

After this everything was blurry. Theseus only knew that he had been told that Percival was malnourished—obviously—and had suffered through torture—that was obvious too. And—that his friend had lost his memories. Percival seemed to remember nothing. Not magic. Not MACUSA. Not his family. Not Theseus. Not even his own name.

Theseus was at a loss. What could he do to help Percival? He knew for a fact that Percival loathed hospitals and so he annoyed the Healers for hours on end until they let him take Percival to his flat. His friend was barely conscious for the weekend but Theseus did his best to feed him, to make him rest, to talk to him. Something must have happened to rid Percival off his memories but he couldn’t tell Theseus because he. Didn’t. Remember. A. Single. Thing. It made Theseus feel helpless and frustrated and he wanted to cry and yell but he knew it wouldn’t help. And so he resorted to drinking.

He had taken a week off to tend to his friend but nothing had happened. They had talked a lot, sure, but Percival’s memories hadn’t seemed to come back to him. Theseus had tried to trigger something—anything—but … nothing. Frustration had grown in both of them and Theseus could see how it tired Percival. And so he had called it an early night today, letting his friend rest.

But it wasn’t even midnight and Theseus was wide awake, drinking firewhiskey while watching Percival snore away on his couch that he had occupied for the last week. Theseus knew he had to inform MACUSA eventually but he couldn’t bring himself to do it before Percival was better. Not that Theseus had much hope left that Percival would get better some day.

‘Scamander, you are pathetic,’ he murmured, his head too dizzy to think, so he had to speak his thoughts out loud. How could he give up on his friend like that? Percival had always been there for him, had never let him down.

In the war it had been Percival who had kept Theseus together. It had been Percival who had calmed him down. It had been Percival who had muffled his sobs in his shoulder when Theseus had mourned the loss of another friend. And now it was Theseus who had to help Percival. He couldn’t fail him, couldn’t fail his friend. No.

Was he crying? Fuck.

Theseus brought up a hand to his face and indeed—his cheeks were wet. Shaking his head he emptied his glass and put it back on the table, deciding not to drink any more alcohol tonight. He had to get a grip on himself, had to figure something out.

With a sigh he stood up and stumbled over to the couch, kneeling down right next to Percival’s head. ‘I won’t let you down, my friend,’ he whispered and brought up a hand to caress Percival’s smooth cheek. It had taken a bit of time but finally he had been able to coax Percival into shaving his beard and cutting his hair. Theseus knew how much Percival loathed to be not presentable but this ‘new’ Percival hadn’t cared much about anything. It was understandable after everything he had been through, Theseus mused. There was much more going on in his friend’s head than being clean shaven and presentable. But still. Baby steps. Maybe something might come back through doing the usual things.

Besides, Percival had looked rough with the beard and the long hair—it had suited him—but Theseus thought him more handsome when he was … well … Percival. When he was the Percival he had known for years. When he was the immaculate man whose shirt was always pristine white and who had not a single strand of hair out of place.

When he was the man he had fallen in love with.

‘Damn this. Damn everything. You don’t know me anymore, you don’t remember anything that has been between us. You don’t even remember our first kiss, don’t remember … don’t …’ Theseus’ words were slurred and he knew that nobody could hear him but he needed to get it out, needed a reason to let the tears fall. And they did, splattering the soft fabric of his couch, right next to Percival’s face. He was openly sobbing now, mourning the friend he has lost, mourning that he would never get a chance to finally confess his love, mourning that he wasn’t stronger.

‘Screw everything,’ he whispered and leaned closer to Percival. His friend wouldn’t know, would never know, maybe wouldn’t even remember once he had his memories back. And even if he wouldn’t get them back, it could be a new start, couldn’t it? And if it couldn’t be, if Percival was disgusted by Theseus … well. America was far away, right? Right.

And with a final shaking breath and the logic of an alcohol induced brain Theseus leaned in and pressed his lips gently to Percival’s. It was a desperate gesture, a hopeless try to get his friend back. A way to remember Theseus what he has lost. To him it was a goodbye.

‘Theseus?’

Damn.

Theseus pulled away quickly, looking innocent and guilty at the same time, eyes wide with anticipation. Had Percival noticed what he has done? Had he noticed that … Theseus has kissed him?

‘You should sleep, my friend.’ Theseus’ voice was broken and the words were barely audible through his alcohol numbed tongue. But Percival shook his head, licking his lips that probably still held the taste of Theseus’ on them. A hand came up to cup Theseus’ cheek, a thumb rubbing gentle circles over his skin. He couldn’t help but close his eyes and lean into the touch.

‘Theseus … I … I remember.’

Theseus’ eyes opened wide.


	4. Prompt 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Anonymous:_ Ooh (I literally thought of this rn) Percival/Theseus decide to play bait for the killer. They catch the bad guy but it's like "you idiot you could have died"

‘You complete and utter idiot! I could’ve lost you—what did you think?!’ No, there were no tears threatening to spill out of Theseus Scamander’s eyes, thank you very much.

‘It worked and I’m still alive,’ Percival countered, his face squished between two large hands, Theseus’ forehead resting against his. Luckily Percival didn’t look as terrible as he had half an hour ago. Gone were all the minor cuts and bruises, gone all the minor injuries. Only the broken arm remained—the Healer had said it needed a bit of time until the Skele-Grow kicked in—and Theseus made sure not to touch it, in fear of causing his friend pain.

‘I was worried sick. Next time _please_ talk to me first.’ Theseus’ expression was pained, his heart pounding hard in his chest, blood still rushing through his veins at a frantic pace. His hands would tremble terribly if they weren’t clutching Percival’s—very handsome—face. ‘I don’t want to lose you. I nearly lost you in the war time and time again, I can’t lose you now that we both came back _alive_.’

‘You won’t,’ Percival said simply and placed the hand attached to his good arm over Theseus’. Theseus was certain that his friend could feel the trembling and he closed his eyes, taking deep breaths to calm himself. He could have lost Percival today. He could have lost his best friend. He didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to dwell on it. But the fear sat deep inside his guts—he could still feel the scream that had ripped his throat raw when he had watched Percival getting hit by that bone-crushing spell.

‘I’m still scared,’ Theseus admitted softly and opened his eyes again, looking into far too brown ones. Looking into eyes that had calmed him down when he had been at his weakest, that had guided him through nights filled with gunfire.

And then the hand covering his wandered over to his own face, cupping his cheek, a thumb brushing over the scar that ran from his brow over his eye and down to his chin. ‘I know. And I’m sorry. We are a team and I should have talked to you before pulling such a stunt.’

That made Theseus smile and lean into the touch, eyes closed again. ‘Yes, you should have. Idiot.’

‘Sometimes I am,’ Percival said and Theseus could hear the suppressed chuckle in his voice and his smile grew even wider. Percival was alive and he would heal. His injuries hadn’t been too bad after all. And Theseus was fine too. They were both alive and well. And that was all that mattered.

‘Sometimes you are,’ he agreed in lack of a better response and sighed quietly when he felt Percival’s hand stroking his cheek. He could sit here with his friend all day and enjoy their quiet time together. It had been far too long since they had last seen and spent time with each other and he would savour every minute he had with Percival. ‘I’ve missed you.’


	5. Prompt 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _[hi-avery](https://hi-avery.tumblr.com/):_ okay but have you considered Theseus being the one captured and Percival the one finding him in that dark cellar and he's just ??? feeling so useless that he didn't notice -- the same way Theseus felt useless when he was the one in custody and he's having internal conflicts cause now someone else has experienced what he went through and he's mentally slapping himself for thinking that especially that it's Theseus

‘I have you, I have you,’ Percival murmured again and again while he pressed Theseus against his chest. His friend was trembling and openly crying, tears of relief painting faint tracks through the dirt and blood on his face. And as much as Percival was trying to be gentle, he could not stop cradling Theseus against him, probably causing him pain by accidentally touching open wounds and pressing against broken bones. ‘I have you.’

It hit him hard that he hadn’t notice that Theseus had been replaced—just like him. Nobody should have to endure what he went through, especially not Theseus who usually was a ray of sunshine. But now clouds seemed to suffocate him, drag him from this world. And Percival could only imagine what Grindelwald had done to his friend.

He remembered the torture he went through under Grindelwald’s care and his mind came up with a thousand scenarios of what the madman could have done to his best friend. ‘I’m sorry. I will take care of you, I will keep you safe,’ he whispered and lifted Theseus up, carrying him in his arms, out of this dark cellar, while his Aurors secured the place.

‘I failed you,’ Theseus said faintly and his head slumped against Percival’s shoulder, eyes closing.

If Theseus’ breathing wouldn’t be even and his pulse wouldn’t be steady, Percival would panic. But like this he only said, ‘No, my friend. I failed _you_.’


	6. Prompt 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Anonymous:_ Modern, assassin au. Theseus: I forgot how much I hate the sight of blood. Percival: Then you probably shouldn't have gotten a job that involves killing.

‘I forgot how much I hate the sight of blood,’ Theseus sighed and made a disgusted face while he wiped his knife on a handkerchief. He would need to wash it later. Or throw it away. Either would do.

‘Then you probably shouldn’t have gotten a job that involves killing.’ Percival’s voice was amused and Theseus could only roll his eyes before he folded his kerchief and put it back into his pocket.

‘That’s why I am usually on a roof, using a sniper rifle. Accurate, fast, silent—and far, far away. I shoot, I see them fall, I can leave. Mission accomplished,’ Theseus countered and tugged at Percival’s sleeve. ‘Come on, let’s go.’

‘You are no fun, Scamander.’

Theseus only huffed and rolled his eyes once again. They didn’t have time for chitchat, they needed to leave before the husband of the woman they just had assassinated came back. ‘Come now, Graves. You can make fun of me later.’

‘Will do with glee!’

‘Oh, shut up, you git!’ And with that he dragged a laughing Percival through the backdoor and down an alleyway, to the next street over where their car was parked. It was an unsuspicious car, black, looking used, not a car either Theseus or Percival would drive privately.

Once they were inside, both of them breathed a sigh of relief. ‘We are getting too old for that,’ Percival groaned. ‘No more close assassination. You can have your rifle next time.’

‘You explain that to Phina. Besides, I wouldn’t have been able to get him through a window and you know that. We didn’t have any other choice than to go inside,’ Theseus replied while he started the car, threw a look over his shoulder and merged into the traffic with ease. It was always an adventure to navigate through New York’s streets—especially during rush hour—but after having moved here five years ago, Theseus had gotten used to it.

Percival got out his phone next to him and sighed. ‘Yeah, will do, you wussy. And now shut up while I call Sera.’


	7. Prompt 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Anonymous:_ Percival is a dragon wrangler and Theseus is... something. Theseus visits Percival one day and gets to meet the dragons and he makes a shocking discovery. "How are you scared of a spider? You tame dragons for a living!"

‘Bit of help here, please?’ Theseus’ voice is strained, air pressed out of his lungs, teeth gritted tightly. But all he gets is a chuckle when dark brown, scuffed boots come into his line of sight. And then someone crouches down next to him.

Percival Graves wears a shit-eating grin, his smile lighting up his whole face, while he pets Theseus’ hair. Theseus wants to scream in frustration. ‘She just wants to play—she’s harmless, really.’

‘That’s what my brother always says and guess what? It usually ends with me getting another broken bone!’ Theseus huffs and once again tries to get the … baby dragon—really, he swears a baby can’t be that big and heavy!—off of his chest. But the dark blue creature is contently lying on him, her warm breath scorching his face, making his lips dry. And he is slightly afraid that she might breathe fire in the next few minutes and set him aflame. ‘Percival, please!’

‘Okay, okay.’ Another chuckle and the shit-eating grin and the boots vanish from Theseus’ sight.

A few seconds later and a sharp whistle rings through the air. The dragon lets out a gleeful squeak and jumps up, nearly crushing Theseus’ chest in the process. A groan escapes him and he closes his eyes, still lying on the ground, defeated. Maybe he won’t have to move again today—he is content just lying there, resting his poor body that not a minute ago served a dragon as a cushion.

‘Stand up, Scamander.’

‘No chance, Graves.’

But Percival doesn’t seem to grant him any rest and grabs his arm, yanking him up in one swift motion. Theseus stumbles to his feet, grabbing Percival’s shoulders for support, before he can tumble over and greet the ground again.

‘Smooth, Graves. Very smooth,’ Theseus says and rolls his eyes while he straightens himself, dusting down his trousers and the back of his coat. Dirt came off in dusty heaps, building a cloud around his legs.

Percival just lets out a chuckle and pats Theseus on the back—before he jumps away with a shriek. Theseus stares in wonder. Percival never shrieks, squeaks or screeches. Never.

Theseus tilts his head. ‘What’s gotten into you?’

‘Sp– Spi–’

‘Yes?’ Theseus prompts gently and urges his friend to speak, amusement seeping into his voice.

‘Spider!’ Percival finally gets out and points at Theseus’ back, hand trembling, eyes wide. His breath hitches and his stance is almost comical, a defending posture but ready to run at the same time. It’s as if the dauntless dragon wrangler suddenly made a one-eighty turn—as if he were a whole new person altogether.

Theseus can’t help but laugh out loud. He snips the—really, it’s tiny—spider off of his coat and it lands somewhere on the ground, crawling away quickly. Shaking his head, he says, ‘How are you scared of a spider? You tame dragons for a living!‘

‘Oh, shut up! Where is it?!’


	8. Prompt 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Anonymous:_ A man has been following Theseus for weeks now. He's handsome, but Theseus is not convinced. Turns out that the demons have realized that God needs Theseus and have put a bounty on his head. God in return sends his most powerful Seraphim to watch over him. One night the demons find Theseus and the Seraphim isn't going to stand by and watch as they kill him.

‘ _Protect him.’_

‘ _Yes, my Lord.’_

* * *

Percival had come onto Earth a few weeks ago, the mission his Lord had given him fresh in his mind. He had followed this man—Theseus Scamander—and had come close to being discovered numerous times. But he had been a Seraph for quite some time now and knew how to behave on Earth, even if it had been roughly a hundred years since he had wandered Earth’s surface the last time. A lot had changed, the human race had developed faster than he had thought. But he had adjusted just fine. Humans—after all—were simple and easy to read and quite boring in Percival’s opinion.

Theseus Scamander … not so much. The last few weeks had been … interesting if Percival was honest with himself. He had wondered what his Lord would want with a mere mortal but the longer he observed the man, the more he understood. Theseus was kind and caring, his friends and family always coming first. He would fight tooth and nail to keep them safe and happy. He was good at his job, his coworkers and subordinates genuinely liked him and thought him a fair man.

He was a good human through and through and Percival could admire that. It wasn’t that surprising then that he felt himself fall for the mortal, even though it was a bit bothersome at times—he wasn’t here to court a human but to protect him. But being a Seraph that had lived for a thousand years already, he could easily suppress his desires regarding Theseus.

‘What do you want from me? Go away!’

Percival snapped out of his thoughts. Damn, he hadn’t paid attention for a few minutes and now there he was—his nemesis—trying to get to Theseus. Percival took on a proud and tall posture before stepping out of the shadows, all pristine and knowing fully well of the effect his demeanour had on other people. ‘Leave him be.’ His voice was loud and steady and the two other occupants of the narrow alleyway Theseus had wandered through to get home on this quiet evening turned to him in surprise.

‘Well, if that isn’t you, Percy. What has you come down to Earth?’ He looked like a man but Percival knew he was one of the highest ranking Demons to wander the pits of Hell. The Demons really must have an interest in Theseus to have sent him.

‘The same as you, obviously,’ Percival replied, radiating calm. But deep down he felt queasy, wanted to run and never turn back. Instead of following his urge to abandon his mission, he walked over and stood next to Theseus who looked confused and a tad bit frightened, even though he clearly wanted to seem tough and self-confident in this rather strange situation.

‘Percy, you know you don’t stand a chance against me. How about you leave this human be and just … go? I don’t want to hurt you.’ A smirk settled on the pale face, smug and knowing. Percival felt uneasy. He felt naked and helpless without his wings, having shed them upon his arrival on Earth to blend in with the humans. He needed them back if he wanted to fight the Demon, if he wanted to fulfil his mission and keep Theseus safe and out of harm’s way.

Taking a deep breath, he took a step forwards, effectively shielding Theseus from the other man. ‘I’m afraid I can’t do that, Gellert. I have orders from higher up—if you know what I mean.’ At least Percival’s voice didn’t betray him, didn’t show the fear that was filling his stomach upon seeing Gellert here with his confident stance and the smirk that said, ‘I know you are scared of me.’

‘Percy, Percy, Percy … Is a mere mortal really worth your death? Think about it … The Lord would lose one of his most powerful Seraphim forever. And what for? To save this useless human?’ Gellert said and in a blink of an eye he was standing behind Percival, having grabbed Theseus from behind whose eyes widened in shock and fear upon not knowing what was going on.

And then the human did something neither Percival nor Gellert had anticipated—he elbowed the Demon in the stomach. Gellert, being taken by surprise, loosened his grip on the man, coughing while curling into himself, and allowed Theseus to make a run for it. It took a few seconds for Percival to process what just had happened, before he got his legs to move and ran after the man he had sworn to protect—even if it cost his life.

‘Wait! Theseus, wait, please! I’m here to protect you!’ He called, hot on Theseus’ heels. But the man wouldn’t stop, not even throwing a glance over his shoulder, not even looking at Percival for one second.

Percival cursed under his breath when he heard a third pair of feet pounding behind them—Gellert was already following them. _Damn it! I need my wings!_ He thought but he knew he would need a bit of time to call them to him and he didn’t have time at this very moment.

He turned around a corner in full speed, intending on catching up with Theseus before Gellert reached them—and ran right into Theseus’ fist. The blow hit him hard, made him stumble back and land on his ass. And Theseus was running once again, Percival scrambling to his feet, cursing while doing so.

‘If your Lord could hear you now. Are you even allowed to curse, Percy?’ Gellert didn’t seem to be fazed by the chase at all, grinning down at Percival, while he was half between crouching and standing up. It was an uncomfortable position—and he was very vulnerable like this, barely able to defend himself. ‘Leave the human be. I will take good care of him.’

‘Fuck you, Gellert,’ Percival replied and stood up to his full height. Luckily he was as tall as Gellert—otherwise he would be even more uncomfortable now. ‘You won’t get him.’

‘Is that so.’ He rounded on Percival, making him back up against the wall, not letting Gellert out of his sight for one second. ‘You know … I could kill you. And then I would take him with me. Isn’t he a handsome little thing?’ Gellert whispered, now standing right in front of Percival, leaning in, his breath tickling Percival’s ear. He had to suppress a shudder but kept his eyes wide open, despite the urge to shut them.

Maybe he could keep Gellert talking. It would gain Theseus time to run as far away as he pleased—even though he knew that Gellert would find him everywhere in this city. It wasn’t that hard for the likes of him. It wouldn’t be hard for Percival either. But keeping Gellert occupied gave Percival time as well.

He took a deep breath and concentrated, this time closing his eyes for the briefest of seconds, reaching out to Heaven. He could still sense Gellert right in front of him, their chests nearly touching. It made his insides squirm nervously but he kept his calm, still focusing on getting his wings back and–

‘Now, Percy, that’s a bad idea.’

A groan escaped him when he was slammed roughly against the wall, hard stone pressing against his back. Percival’s eyes snapped open in an instant—and he grinned. ‘Too late.’

Gellert’s eyes widened in horror and triumph surged through Percival as he flapped his wings, pushing Gellert as far away as possible, making the Demon slam into the wall on the other side of the street. Passersby didn’t even flinch, not being able to see them—because they didn’t want to be seen right now—just hurrying home at the late hour.

While Gellert tried to get back on his feet, Percival flapped his wings once again, rising up into the dark night sky, flying higher and higher, passing the tallest buildings in New York. The city lay beneath him, bustling and alive despite it nearing midnight. But Percival needed to find Theseus before Gellert got to him—and he would, Percival knew it.

Concentrating on Theseus’ significant aura, Percival chose his way across the city. It would take him only a few minutes to catch up with the man but Gellert could still be there before him.

‘Come on, where are you, Theseus?’ He murmured and looked down onto the bright city lights which made it unable to see the stars right above them. But he couldn’t waste time and dwell on the fact how sad it was that humans polluted the air so much that they weren’t even able to see the stars anymore. No, he had to find—ah! ‘There you are.’ And with that he descended back to the ground, landing right in front of the man in question who flinched violently upon seeing Percival.

‘Who are you?’ Percival had to give it to him—his voice was firm and didn’t show any of the fear that was more than evident in his aura. And he had to admit that he admired that Theseus didn’t run but kept standing, tall and proud. If Percival were anything lesser than a Seraph, he would be intimidated by the man. Theseus was taller than him by quite a few inches, his body lean but strong, auburn hair styled neatly and suit pristine—although he didn’t wear a tie.

‘Please, Theseus, listen to me.’

‘How do you know my name? Who was the other guy? Why are you following me? What do you want?’ Theseus fired question after question at him and Percival deemed it best to let him talk until he didn’t find words anymore. ‘Why do you have wings?’

That last question got him and Percival groaned. He could only hope that his Lord wouldn’t be cross with him for such a faux pas. ‘Calm down. Please,’ he said instead of answering any of the questions and took a step closer, hands held out in front of him, showing that he wasn’t a threat. But Theseus’ posture changed immediately, only subtle, getting more tense, ready to run again, even if he was still out of breath.

‘What do you want?’ Theseus sounded defeated now and Percival took pity on him, taking another step towards the man.

‘My name is Percival. And that other … man … is Gellert. He wants to take you with him—he is … not good.’ He sighed and looked Theseus straight in the eye, trying to convince him, trying to make him believe his words. ‘I don’t have time to explain everything right now as Gellert will find you again and try to take you. I need to get you to a safe place. Will you come with me?’

‘I–’

‘No, he won’t.’ Percival wanted to scream in frustration as Gellert strode around the corner and stopped a few feet away. ‘He will come with me. Won’t you, Theseus?’

Theseus was looking from Percival to Gellert, again confused and still scared and Percival could only guess what was running through the poor man’s mind. He wanted to help him, to hold him close and protect him. He wanted to tell him that everything would be fine. Ah. His feelings for the man were slowly coming to the surface again. But he couldn’t let his feelings define his decisions.

‘Leave, Gellert. You know it will be hard for you to win this fight, now that I have my wings back,’ Percival said and threw a pleading look towards Theseus who was still focused on Gellert. If the man would only decide to trust him … he could take him away to somewhere safe in a matter of minutes! But he was still looking at Gellert and Percival was looking at Theseus and there must have been something in his eyes …

‘My, my, Percy … Don’t tell me you fell for a mortal.’ Amusement laced Gellert’s voice and Percival cursed himself that he had let his guard down. His aura must have given away his feelings and he buried them under a layer of professionalism, stepping in front of Theseus once again.

‘Leave, Gellert,’ he said, the threat evident when he spread his wings, holy light shining weakly from them. He could see how Gellert gritted his teeth, knowing fully well that the Lord was on Percival’s side and would lend him his strength should it come to a fight between the Demon and the Seraph.

‘We will meet again, Percy,’ Gellert spat before darkness crept up on him and swallowed him whole.

He was gone back to Hell.

‘He … he vanished.’

Percival turned around and looked at Theseus, his eyes tired, wings folded on his back. He would have to do a lot of explaining. Later.

‘Yes, he did. Please, come with me. I need to tell you a lot.’ Even his voice was tired, his whole body spoke of exhaustion. Gellert’s appearance had drained him of his energy and he wanted nothing more than to sleep. ‘Please, let me explain.’

Theseus looked at him, something strange in his eyes as he took him in from head to toe. And then he said, ‘Okay.’


	9. Prompt 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Anonymous:_ Theseus is an immortal but he falls in love with a human. One night he and his boyfriend get mugged, Theseus killed, but just before the mugger kills Percival too Theseus wakes and kills him in stead. Percival just stares. "Hold on, you died!" "Yeah, well, it didn't stick."

_Oh, bloody hell!_ That hurt more than Theseus had thought. He could feel the blood oozing out of him, while his body lay sprawled on the hard ground. He wondered briefly if he should pull out the knife that had been stabbed through his heart but decided against it. It would only lead to more blood staining the ground and he didn’t want to worry Percival.

‘You bastard!’

Ah, yes. Percival. This idiot of a mugger should better not touch his boyfriend.

‘Give me your money or you’ll end like your faggot friend!’

No, that just wouldn’t do. With an unnerved sigh Theseus opened his eyes and sat up, the handle of the knife sticking out of his chest. His eyes roamed around and there they were—Percival trying to wrangle another knife from the mugger who was just drawing a third one, unseen by Percival.

Theseus jumped up and didn’t think twice when he tackled their attacker to the ground, both man landing with a groan on the hard concrete. He could hear Percival’s shocked gasp but he really didn’t have the time to say anything to soothe him. Instead he pushed the knives away and punched the mugger repeatedly in the face until he fell unconscious, too surprised by Theseus’ sudden resurrection to defend himself.

‘Theseus. Theseus! Stop it, he is done for!’

Theseus was dragged away from the man, panting heavily. His eyes shone bright when they landed on Percival who stared at him in awe.

With a frightened little noise Theseus began to touch Percival everywhere, searching for any injuries his boyfriend could have. When his hands finally landed on the other’s face, cupping his cheeks, he let out a distressed laugh. ‘You alright?’

But Percival only kept staring at him, mouth hanging slightly ajar, no words coming out. And then his eyes wandered from Theseus’ face down to his chest and a strangled noise escaped him, his hands coming up, trembling but not touching.

‘Hold on, you died! I saw you die, how–’ Percival began but Theseus interrupted him with an embarrassed grin. Because, how do you explain to your boyfriend of five years that you are immortal?

Not knowing what to say, Theseus just blurted out, ‘Yeah, well, it didn’t stick.’

There was an awkward silence for a few very long seconds and then Percival spoke again, ‘But … but … How?!’

‘That … That is a very long story. I will explain later, but for now … let’s go home, okay?’ Suddenly Theseus sounded tired and Percival seemed to sense that this was not the time.

‘Okay.’


	10. Prompt 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Anonymous:_ how's about Childhood Friends turn into Lovers trope?

_16th August 1897_

  
  


‘These are my sons; Theseus and Newton. And my lovely wife Athena.’

Theseus looked up at the stranger standing in their living-room and smiled politely. His brother, lying content in his mother’s arms, made some gurgling noises, tiny hands reaching out. The man smiled back and nodded acknowledging at Theseus’ father before laying a hand on the shoulder of the boy that was with him.

‘Nice to meet you—and congratulations to your second child,’ he said with a warm smile and Theseus’ mother practically glowed with pride. ‘This is my son Percival. Say hello.’

‘Hello, it’s nice to meet you,’ Percival said immediately, his voice quiet and polite but no smile gracing his features. Theseus didn’t know what to think of him.

‘Theseus, how about you show Percival around while we adults talk?’ His mother suggested and because Theseus was well-bred he nodded and looked shyly at Percival. The boy immediately walked over to him and waited expectantly for Theseus to lead the way.

Theseus showed him around, first his bedroom and then the stables, only to end up on one of the paddocks, lying in the shadow of a tall tree, watching the Hippogriffs prance around. Percival seemed to be intimidated by the beasts but Theseus reassured him that they wouldn’t do anything as long as Percival stayed with him.

When Theseus met Percival for the first time, they were both four years old and they decided that they would be friends.

  
  


* * *

  
  


_14th January 1904_

  
  


Dear Percival,

Today I got my Hogwarts letter, like Mother and Father predicted; right on my birthday. I’m so excited! I wish you were here, so we could go to Diagon Alley together and you could help me pick a wand. I don’t like that you are so far away—we don’t get to see each other as often as I’d like.

Why can’t we just go to school together? It would be a lot less frightening if I had a friend at Hogwarts. Or I could go to Ilvermorny. (But let’s face it: Hogwarts is the best school in the whole wide world, so we would go to Hogwarts if we had to pick a school.)

Hope to see you again soon.

  
  


Best regards,

Theseus

  
  


* * *

  
  


_15th July 1911_

  
  


‘We are the best. We will change this world!’ Theseus’ words were already slurred, his eyes not really able to focus anymore. His posture was lax, his body slumped in the booth he and Percival were occupying.

‘We will,’ Percival agreed with a nod and took a sip from his scotch before nudging Theseus who was leaning against him with all his weight. Personal space was an alien concept for a drunk Theseus Scamander but Percival didn’t seem to care much.

‘We’ll be the best Aurors of all time. We’ll show ’em!’ Theseus’ voice got louder and louder with each word but Percival smiled. And if his friend smiled, he couldn’t be _that_ bad yet, right? He was entitled to another glass of firewhiskey, right?

‘I think you had enough, my friend.’ Percival’s voice was gentle as he pried the empty glass out of Theseus’ grip. Theseus pouted at his friend and opened his mouth to protest—he closed it immediately when Percival shook his head with a stern expression on his face. ‘No more drinks for you. I need to get you home somehow. Don’t you think we’ve celebrated enough?’

‘But it’s not every day that we can drink together! And it’s not every day that we both get accepted into Auror training!’ Theseus said, the whine evident in his voice, his eyes big and pleading. If he wanted, he could look like his brother; all cute and innocent with big, sad eyes that you couldn’t say no to.

But Percival could. Reluctantly, but he could. ‘We will have the opportunity to celebrate another time. Maybe when one of us gets married,’ he said and winked at Theseus who just stared at him. The possibility of Percival getting married … Well, he was handsome. And well-mannered. And would soon become an Auror. And he was a Graves. Of course the women would throw themselves at him.

Theseus didn’t know why the thought of Percival finding someone for wedlock bugged him so much.

  
  


* * *

  
  


_24th November 1914_

  
  


There was a scream and suddenly Percival’s arms were full of Theseus, both men laughing and clapping each other on the back. They hadn’t seen each other for the last three years, Auror training had kept them busy. And then the Muggles had decided that a war would be a good idea and travelling got even more difficult.

‘You are an idiot, Scamander,’ Percival murmured into his ear but Theseus could only shrug, his face split in two by a big grin. He was just too happy to see his friend again.

‘Yeah, I know. And I probably won’t have a job after this anymore but it’s still the right thing to do, don’t you think?’ He said and let go of his friend, thinking about Minister Evermonde and his reluctance to let wizards participate in the war. But Theseus hadn’t been able to just stand by and watch—and now he was here, fighting side by side with Muggles. And apparently his friend.

It had been a nice surprise when they had been told that an American platoon would join them. And an even nicer surprise when he had spotted Percival among them. Not being able to hold back, he had left his own platoon, running right into his friend’s arms. Of course the other soldiers—and especially his Lieutenant—weren’t to happy about his behaviour. But Theseus couldn’t care less, to happy to finally being able to talk to Percival again.

‘If we survive this,’ Percival finally said and clapped Theseus on the shoulder—he had to reach up as Theseus was a few inches taller than him.

‘Don’t be too optimistic,’ Theseus responded and rolled his eyes before taking a step back.

  
  


* * *

  
  


_25th December 1914_

  
  


‘I wish I could go home.’ Theseus was slumped on the cot, Percival right next to him. ‘I miss Newton. And my mother.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Percival said quietly and folded his hands on his stomach and exhaled a sigh.

Both men weren’t eager to celebrate Christmas with their fellow soldiers nor did they want to celebrate at all. They just wanted to be with the ones they loved, wanted to be with their families. And being with each other on this day came as close to their desires as it could be.

‘Me too.’ Theseus shuffled around until he lay on his side, head pillowed on his arm. The cot was small and they were pressed close together. Theseus could feel Percival’s warmth seep through their clothes and every move Percival made went through his body like an electric shock.

Percival mirrored him, now a small gap between them. And suddenly Theseus missed the contact. But moving closer wasn’t an option. They were friends and Percival was probably the only person in this camp who kept him sane—Theseus didn’t want to do anything to their friendship by overstepping any boundaries.

‘At least we have each other,’ Percival finally said after several minutes of silence. Theseus smiled. There was a warm feeling pooling in his stomach and all of a sudden the normal brown of Percival’s eyes seemed to glow, didn’t seem boring at all. It was rather flecked with gold, a myriad of different colours making his eyes so alive and it seemed as if Percival could see right into his soul.

‘Yeah,’ Theseus whispered and it was as if all air had left his lungs. Suddenly he was short of breath, his mouth dry and he just knew his hands would tremble if he lifted them.

Percival looked at him in concern and Theseus was scared of the question that would inevitably come because he didn’t have an answer. ‘Is everything alright?’

‘… I don’t know.’

  
  


* * *

  
  


_8th February 1915_

  
  


‘You’ve been acting strange around me.’

‘You are imagining things.’

‘Yeah … I don’t think so.’

‘Don’t you?’

‘Spit it out: What is it? Is it something I’ve done?’

‘No.’

‘Then why are you avoiding me? Please talk to me.’

‘Everything is fine, Percival.’

  
  


* * *

  
  


_3rd April 1915_

  
  


‘Why are you staring?’ Theseus asked, his voice tense. He had just wanted to change into some fresh clothes, now that they still had the chance before they were sent into the trenches. And for the first time for months Percival was in their shared tent as well while Theseus changed and it made him slightly uncomfortable.

‘I’m not staring,’ Percival answered—and was obviously lying as his eyes had lingered on Theseus’ naked torso for longer than was appropriate.

‘Yeah and I’m the King of England.’ Hastily he pulled the shirt on and buttoned it, now with his back to Percival who averted his eyes.

  
  


* * *

  
  


_29th May 1915_

  
  


Gunfire was ringing in their ears and Theseus pulled his helmet lower over his head, slumping deeper against the wall of the trench. This wasn’t the glorious life of a soldier he had imagined—this was nothing like the stories he had heard. This was history repeating itself and it was frightening.

‘I’m with you. You are not alone.’ Theseus leaned into the arms offered to him, bathing in the warmth of Percival’s trembling body. And it hit him that his friend was as scared as he was.

Theseus wanted to answer but then … they were best friends, had known each other for years. Percival knew that Theseus was grateful that they were in this together. It was hard to form words right now when you were scared for your life, when it was even hard to breathe. But Theseus didn’t need to say anything because Percival knew.

  
  


* * *

  
  


_9th October 1915_

  
  


And all of a sudden Percival’s mouth was pressed against his, Theseus’ eyes closing on their own accord. Feelings rushed through his body, a wave of heat, of want, of lust washing over him like the hands that were touching him everywhere.

Hot, slightly chapped lips moved against his, a tongue sweeping over his lower lip, teeth clashing clumsily against each other. And his own hands were slipping right beneath Percival’s shirt, wandering over heated, faintly sweaty skin, trailing several newer and older scars, a featherlight touch that made Percival shiver.

Theseus drew low pants and gasps from his friend and moaned in return, both men satisfied with being the reason the other made those sounds.

  
  


* * *

  
  


_11th November 1915_

  
  


‘Talk to me, please!’

But Theseus only turned around and left.

  
  


* * *

  
  


_2nd January 1916_

  
  


‘Percival! Percival, no!’ Tears were streaming down Theseus’ face as he frantically tried to stop the bleeding. He had taken off his shirt, dirty from months in the trenches, and pressed it against the wound, the fabric quickly soaking with blood. He knew that getting dirt into the wound could be fatal but what other choice did he have? He needed to do something—anything! He couldn’t let his friend die. ‘Please. Please stay alive,’ he sobbed, his hands and upper body smeared with blood while he tried desperately to keep the blood inside the body it belonged to.

Minutes passed and no help arrived, their fellow soldiers standing around, not being able to do anything. And all hope began to leave Theseus and he broke down on top of Percival, crying like a child.

He didn’t feel any shame.

‘I’m sorry, Theseus, but I don’t think there’s anything you can do,’ someone said, the lilting Irish accent showing that it was a man of Theseus’ platoon.

‘No.’ He refused to give up. With a shaking hand he reached inside his pocket and drew his wand, pushing away his ruined shirt with the other. He began to murmur incantations, stopping the bleeding, knitting flesh and skin back together, not caring that he breached the Statute of Secrecy to a degree that could get him into Azkaban. ‘Please, you need to live. Please.’

Percival lived. Barely. And Theseus has never cast so many memory altering spells in his entire life.

  
  


* * *

  
  


_21st January 1916_

  
  


‘We need to talk.’

‘It’s about time, Theseus.’


	11. Prompt 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Anonymous:_ Theseus and Percival are superheroes, but they've sort of retired and left saving the world to the younger heroes. One day they see a villain doing something villany and no hero seems to turn up. So Theseus just turns to Percival. "On a scale of 1 to 10 how bad do you think it would be if..." "At least a 20"

‘What do you think about watching a film once we get home?’ Theseus murmured into Percival’s ear, leaning closer and giving him a chaste kiss on the cheek. Percival smiled in answer and nodded, wrinkles on his face getting deeper with the stretch of his mouth.

He had become old, Theseus noted, more grey than black in his hair now, the wrinkles more prominent, eyes more tired. But he looked still so alive, brown eyes watching everything with full attention. Well, age did that to you; Percival would become sixty this year.

Theseus didn’t fare much better. His auburn hair slowly streaking with grey at the age of fifty-three, freckles concealing the wrinkles on his still handsome and slightly mischievous face.

‘Sounds good to me, love,’ Percival finally answered and took a sip from his coffee. ‘As long as it isn’t Superman—you know I hate these superhero movies.’

‘No Superman, promise. How about Spiderman then?’ Theseus teased and got a smack to the head for his cheek, laughing at Percival’s disgusted face that he could see out of the corner of his eye.

‘Being a superhero—and you know I hate this label—makes me despise superhero movies. Even if we left the business a year ago.’

‘Yeah, I know, you grump,’ Theseus said and rolled his eyes in good humour. He got it, he really did. They had faced too much shit in their lives and seeing it projected on screen … Well, it wasn’t really relaxing for them. ‘How about “Zombieland” then?’

Percival barked a laugh. ‘I think you are the only one who likes this movie,’ he said, chuckling.

‘That’s not—’

A loud crash came from outside the little café they were sitting in, efficiently cutting Theseus off. They simultaneously wiped their heads around, looking out off the wide glass front of the café. On the other side of the road seemed to be a turmoil, people running away screaming, a shop front being shattered, glass and bricks lying everywhere. And in the middle of the chaos stood three persons, wearing all black, masked, weapons in their hands.

‘Oh no,’ Percival groaned and scowled at the offending scene.

‘On a scale of one to ten, how bad do you think it would be if …’ Theseus began and trailed off, gesturing out of the window to the opposite side of the street. He really didn’t want to ask this—they had wanted to have a quiet day, a day for themselves for once. But people needed help and he could hardly just stand by and watch.

Percival sighed, defeat written on his face. At least a twenty.’

‘So … we kick their arses?’

‘We kick their asses.’


	12. Prompt 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Anonymous:_ How about, Percival and Theseus are that couple who are always squabbling but still love each other deeply. "Take my hand." "Why?" "I'm trying to ask you to marry me, so take my damn hand."

‘Stop touching my hair!’

‘I’m petting you—I’m trying to be nice here!’

‘Yeah, well, it’s annoying, so stop it!’

‘You are an arse, Graves.’

‘No, I have an ass and you love said ass.’

‘… True.’

They are lying on the couch together, in their apartment, Percival’s head pillowed on Theseus’ shoulder, a book open and propped up on his chest. It could be nice if Theseus would stop touching his hair—it tickles. Percival is short of just swatting Theseus’ hand away in annoyance.

‘I’m trying to read here, so stop it already,’ he scowls and throws a pissed look into Theseus’ direction but his boyfriend doesn’t even look his way, absentmindedly playing with the dark strands of Percival’s hair while staring into space. Percival rolls his eyes. Leave it to Theseus Scamander to argue with him and then drift off with his thoughts. ‘Prat,’ he murmurs and resumes reading.

‘I heard that.’ Percival feels a tug at his hair and hisses before closing his book and putting it on the table. Theseus is particularly annoying today and he can’t stand it.

‘Would you stop it?’

‘No.’

‘I fucking hate you.’

‘You fucking love me.’

‘More like loving to fuck you.’

Immediately he feels himself being pinned down on the couch, Theseus looming over him, a smirk on his face. His body is taller than Percival’s, a bit more heavy and he doesn’t have the energy after a long day of work to throw his boyfriend off of him. And he finds he doesn’t want to.

Because when Theseus’ lips meet his, he sighs in content and closes his eyes, melting under the other man, melting under Theseus’ touches, under the nibbling teeth that leave a mark on his neck. He will have to cover it come tomorrow but for now he is happy to belong to someone.

‘Who is fucking who now, Graves?’

‘Nobody is fucking anybody, Scamander.’

‘We could change that.’

‘Could we?’

They end up on the floor, the couch not having enough space, being too short for Theseus’ long limbs which hang awkwardly over the edges. But the carpet is soft against Percival’s naked back, sure to not leave any burns. It is an evening of shared pleasure, Theseus buried deep inside of him, quiet gasps and moans filling their living room.

Theseus thrusts into him leisurely, ever so gentle, and Percival feels content, feels safe and loved. Their last times have been rough and fast and filled with lust and want—this time it is filled with love and their shared want to please each other. None of them wants it to stop.

When they are done, they lie next to each other, panting, bathing in their post-coital bliss. Smiles adorning their tired faces while they turn on their sides to face each other, the soft carpet grazing their sensitive skin. They are not touching and they don’t feel the need to. Not now. Percival already knows this—it had been the same during the war. Theseus needed a bit of space, a few minutes to calm down. Then he would kiss Percival on the head and go to bed.

Usually, it would end like this. But tonight feels different.

‘Take my hand.’

‘Why?’

He can see Theseus rolling his eyes and smirks. Nobody can deny that they love each other dearly but their little quarrels keep them alive. They need them like they need air to breath, like they needed each other back in the war to not go insane.

‘I’m trying to ask you to marry me, so take my bloody hand, Graves.’

Well, that was unexpected.


	13. Prompt 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Anonymous:_ But what if after the whole Grindelwald ordeal Graves gets a limp, and Theseus stays with him through rehabilitation and helps him both to relearn to walk and regain his confidence?

‘You need to rest, don’t overdo it. Your leg needs to—’

‘Would you shut up?’

Theseus threw a hurt look at Percival, only to see his friend’s face fall. It was like something shattered inside of him and he reached out to Theseus, limping over to him. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—’

‘It’s okay.’ Theseus sighed and forced a smile on his face, a hand coming up to clap Percival’s shoulder. It was hard to see his friend like this, all broken, the pieces slowly coming back together. But he needed more time, needed time to heal properly. Physically and mentally. Grindelwald really did a number on him.

‘It’s not. I’m constantly snapping at you. I think I’m just frustrated that I don’t heal as fast as I want to.’ He sounded so defeated it made Theseus’ heart ache, made him reach out and wrap his arms around his old friend. And—what he didn’t expect—Percival reciprocated the hug. He was a reassuring, heavy weight against his chest, his fingers gripping Theseus’ shirt a bit too tight, leaving it crumpled, but Theseus couldn’t care less. Theseus reached up to cup the back of Percival’s head, his fingers tangling in the other’s hair. Percival’s hair was soft under his touch, free of the pomade that usually kept it in place. And Percival seemed to like the gentle caressing, relaxed into his arms like a young hippogriff getting ready for sleep. ‘I want to go back to work.’

‘I know.’

‘I’m sorry for being so difficult. You came here to take care of me and all I did the last few months is being an ass to you. You deserve be—’

‘Shut up.’ Theseus’ voice was firm and he took a step back, both his hands now on Percival’s shoulders. He gave his friend a stern look, one that said that he didn’t want to hear such nonsense. ‘You are not difficult. You are not a burden. You have been hurt and you need time to heal and you need people who understand you. I know I’m lacking patience as well but … Percival, you are important to me and I want you to be … to be … good again …’

His throat was clogged all of a sudden, his teeth gritted and his eyes closed. He needed to calm down, needed to steady his breathing. The last few months had been hard—on both of them. It had hurt Theseus as much as Percival to see his friend so helpless, so broken. He wasn’t the man he used to be anymore.

‘Theseus …’

‘Please … Percival, let me take care of you. Please …’

His forehead was resting against Percival’s, his eyes still tightly shut, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over. No, he wouldn’t cry, not in front of Percival, not in front of the man who had shown strength beyond belief. How could he be weak in front of a man who had to endure so much at the hand of a madman? How could he ask Percival to be strong on his behalf? He couldn’t. He needed to be strong, needed to be stronger than this, needed to keep himself together, needed to … needed to …

‘Theseus, breathe.’

A gasp escaped him and his eyes shot open, wide with panic. But brown eyes were staring right back, reassuring him that everything would be fine, that they would get through this.

‘Perc—’

‘We survived worse.’


	14. Prompt 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Anonymous:_ Percival is a billionare who loves to travel and experience all kinds of stuff. He hired Theseus as his advisor so he could work while still traveling. When Theseus finally decides to quit Percival decides to give him a parting gift. "You gave up your life for 5 years, the least I can do is give you a house." "That is not a house. That- that thing is gigantic!" "It's got a fully stocked wine cellar." "Okay, fine."

Theseus stared in shock. Mr Graves couldn’t be serious.

‘You gave up your life for five years, the least I can do is give you a house,’ Mr Graves said, a soft smile playing at his lips. Theseus was still dumbstruck, his eyes not leaving the facade of the house in front of him. It was big, there was no denying it. Crisp white bricks as far as the eye could see, a dark blue roof, far up in the sky, at least three storeys … not to talk about the neatly kept garden that stretched on for miles.

‘That is not a house.’ Theseus’ voice was higher than usual, surprise evident in the way his eyes widened. Mr Graves couldn’t be serious. This couldn’t be. This house must have cost a fortune! He could never accept this gift. ‘That—that thing is gigantic!’

Mr Graves chuckled next to him, shooting him a benevolent look, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. Theseus could see it out of the corner of his eye and turned to the man, gesturing helplessly. This was too much—he couldn’t accept this gift. ‘It’s got a fully stocked wine cellar.’

A groan ripped its way out of his throat and Theseus tugged at his hair, completely at a loss. And did Mr Graves really think he was swayed by the prospect of having a good wine each evening for the rest of his life? Not that Theseus wouldn’t like that … ‘Okay, fine.’

‘I knew you would—’

‘No, I mean—apologies for interrupting, Sir. I mean … I can’t accept this. It’s too much.’ Theseus felt helpless. He didn’t want to disappoint Mr Graves, didn’t want to be impolite to the man whom he had spent the last five years with. He didn’t want this gift but he didn’t want to refuse it either as he didn’t want to be rude. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Graves.’

A sigh next to him dragged him out of his thoughts and he turned back to Mr Graves with a defeated look. But the man just looked at him with a smile. ‘How often do I need to tell you that you can call me Percival?’

‘Sir, I don’t think—’

‘Theseus, listen to me. I want to gift this to you. It’s not a hassle and I want to thank you for your work and effort.’

‘You already paid me, Sir,’ Theseus said with a frown. It felt wrong to take a whole house that was probably worth millions. Besides, it would feel lonely to live there.

‘This is not payment. Listen, I won’t force you—is there anything else you want?’ Mr Graves asked and touched his shoulder in a calming gesture. Involuntarily Theseus leaned into the touch, the feeling of the warm hand soothing through the fabric of his immaculate shirt.

‘I can’t accept anything from you. I worked for you for five years and you’ve paid me well—what more could I ask for?’

The grip on his shoulder tightened just a little bit and Theseus felt himself stand a bit taller, a bit prouder, a bit more confident. ‘I wanted to give you a start. Money is nice but what you made in those five years isn’t enough to buy a home and provide for a family, Theseus. You are young and handsome—you will find a beautiful woman in no time and have a family with her. Wouldn’t it be nice to have a home for them?’

Oh. This was unexpected. And entirely unlikely. But how did you tell your former boss that you won’t ever have a family because you are homosexual? It wasn’t like he could just blurt it out—Mr Graves would probably be disgusted. Theseus’ posture grew tense. And Mr Graves seemed to sense something as his look got apologetic. He opened his mouth but Theseus beat him to it, ‘Ah, no. No family for me—I’ve no one I’m interested in.’

‘The right one will come.’ And Mr Graves’ eyes were so intense, so … understanding. It made Theseus shiver. His former boss couldn’t possibly know … could he? ‘The right one will come. Perhaps sooner than you think.’

‘… Perhaps.’ And his breathing stopped as Mr Graves’ hand slipped from his shoulder to his waist, squeezing lightly before letting go.

‘I’ll see you around. And stop calling me Sir or Mr Graves.’ And then he turned around and left Theseus there, standing, staring in shock and surprise.


	15. Prompt 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Anonymous:_ Percival and Theseus are boyfriends. One day Percival is taken hostage in a bank robbery, Theseus wasn't with him in the bank. The situation is solved and Percival is given over to the ambulance people. Theseus rushes over as soon as he gets the call. He finds a grumpy, slightly shaken but otherwise fine Percival. "Why do people keep trying to put this blanket on me?" "Because you're in shock" "That doesn't mean I need a blanket. It means I need booze."

Heart pounding loud in his chest, blood rushing in his ears, breath a hard panting on his lips. Theseus is running. Receiving a call that your boyfriend has been taken hostage does that to you. It makes you jump into the next subway and run through half the city to get to him, to punch whoever thought it a good idea to hold your boyfriend hostage into the face.

But when Theseus arrives at the scene, everything is already over. Police is standing around, reporters like hawks, gathering to get a good photo of the culprits, ambulances parked at the sides, paramedics taking care of the victims.

Theseus pushes his way through the crowd to get to the paramedics, hoping, praying that Percival is alright. He can’t be hurt—he can’t be dead! Heart beating rapidly in his chest, sweat breaking out on his forehead, hands trembling. He knows he will fall apart if Percival is dead, he knows he won’t survive if anything happened to him. Percival needs to be alright, he needs to come home with Theseus. And Theseus needs to cater to his every need and whim, needs to make sure that he is well.

‘Excuse me, civilians are not allowed here.’

‘One of the people they held hostage is my boyfriend—Percival Graves. Is he alright?’ Theseus knows his voice sounds defeated, scared, but he can’t help it. Fear floods his body, makes his blood run cold at the various thoughts that graze his mind. He can feel tears pricking at his eyes but he refuses to cry—not here, not now.

‘Name?’

‘Theseus Scamander.’

‘You can go through.’

Theseus doesn’t even thank the police officer, just walks past him, steps getting faster and faster, eyes sweeping left and right. And then—

‘Percival!’

Percival looks up, annoyance written on his face and Theseus wants to laugh. Of course. Leave it to Percival Graves to be annoyed at the fact someone tried to kill him instead of being afraid.

‘Theseus, what are you doing here?’ Percival asks when Theseus walks over and stops in front of him. But instead of answering, he only takes Percival’s face in his hands and kisses him soundly on the mouth, warmth flooding his body, chasing the cold away. There is so much relief written on his face that it hurts his muscles—they are definitely not used to such an expression.

‘Shit, I nearly pissed myself when I got the call, you idiot,’ he breathes and kisses Percival again. And this time the kiss is reciprocated, lips moving against each other and hands gripping the soft, short hairs in the nape of his neck. Goosebumps appear on Theseus’ skin, a shiver of pleasure rocking his body when suddenly a single tear rolls over his cheek. He wipes it away, a sheepish smile on his face as soon as they break apart.

‘Oh, please,’ a chuckle rips itself from Percival’s throat, ‘as if something like this could kill me. You know I’m too stubborn to die.’

‘Luckily. I would need to search for someone else to shove their dick up my arse,’ Theseus replies with a smirk and sits down next to Percival in the back of one of the ambulances. The other scoots over to make some space and Theseus gets comfortable, reaching behind them and getting one of the blankets to drape over Percival’s shoulders.

His boyfriend growls in annoyance, shooting him a dirty look. ‘Why do people keep trying to put this blanket on me?’ He asks, expression dark and voice aggressive. Theseus only chuckles, knowing fully well that Percival looks more dangerous than he is.

‘Because you are in shock.’

Percival only huffs and Theseus knows exactly what would come next but he waits patiently. Percival would get great pleasure out of saying it and Theseus doesn’t want to kill the fun for him. ‘That doesn’t mean I need a blanket. It means I need booze.’

Theseus chuckles. ‘Luckily I bought a bottle of scotch this morning. As soon as we get home, we can both get drunk, cuddle up in bed and watch a movie. That alright?’

‘… Your taste in scotch is debatable.’

‘Fuck you.’


	16. Prompt 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _[coffeesugarcream](http://coffeesugarcream.tumblr.com/):_ so - what about a Thesival story with fae!Percival? Maybe Percy being a changeling, swapped by fairies with a mortal child when he was a baby. He kept it secret glamouring his pointy ears and unheartly eyes for years, but then Grindelwald happens, straps him of his glamour... and when Theseus finds him, Percival is glowing and not-human and with pale, trembling dragonfly wings on his back... "Shit, Graves." "I know."

It was a lucky guess, really. Theseus didn’t honestly believe that Grindelwald would keep Percival prisoner in his own home—that would be too obvious. Well, apparently he was mistaken.

When he descended the narrow steps down into the cellar of the Graves estate, he didn’t expect the light glow that came from one corner of the dingy room. He also didn’t expect to find Percival, alive and breathing and—with wings. It was an unnatural sight and for a second he thought he was dreaming.

Slowly he walked closer, one step at a time. He didn’t want to startle his friend—or whoever that was. It looked like Percival, it even smelled like him, under a layer of dirt and sweat and the natural stench of an abandoned human being.

When Theseus finally stood in front of his friend, he crouched down, inspecting the chains around wrists and ankles, having a look at the broken looking wings, the otherwise naked body, the wild beard that grew around a haggard face. It was most certainly Percival, there was no denying it. But he looked so different, so out of this world.

‘Theseus?’ The voice was weak, barely more than a rasp, as if he took his last strength to speak before collapsing. But it was Percival’s voice, clearly. And when his eyes opened, there was now denying that Theseus stared really down into his friend’s dark brown irises, so alive and sparkling with a foreign glow. It weren’t human eyes but it were Percival’s.

And then it finally hit Theseus that his best friend was still alive—whatever Grindelwald had done to him didn’t kill him. He might have transfigured and tortured him but Percival was a fighter, a survivor.

With a choked back sob Theseus cupped Percival’s cheek, the skin smooth and warm under the tips of his fingers, the wiry hairs of his beard the only rough surface under his hands. ‘Shit, Graves …’

But before he could say anything else, Percival sighed and leaned into his hand, his eyes fixing Theseus, before he spoke, ’I know.’

‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Don’t be. It’s not your fault.’

Theseus closed his eyes, concentrating on feeling Percival’s face against his hand, concentrating on the steady breathing, the rising and falling of the glowing, bruised chest, concentrating on the far too faint smell of cologne under layers and layers of dirt and stench.

‘What did he do to you?’ He finally pressed out through gritted teeth. And now he reached out, pulling Percival against his chest who heaved a shuddering breath before melting into him. It felt so good to finally have him back in his arms, to feel him relax, to know that Percival still trusted him. ‘We can get you back to your old self. I bet I can trace the spells he used. It will just take time but we’ll ge—’

‘That’s my real me.’

‘—t there.’ Theseus stopped. ‘What?’

‘This—this is the real me,’ Percival repeated, now beginning to shake in Theseus’ arms and he held him just a bit tighter, giving him just a bit more reassurance. ‘I’m … I’m … I’m a fae. Please, Theseus, I … I …’

‘Shh, it’s alright. I won’t tell anyone.’ Theseus couldn’t say he wasn’t shocked but he was quick to accept the fact that his best friend was a mythical creature. And he would help him in whatever way Percival wanted, in whatever way he needed. ‘We’ll get your glamours back in place and then take you to MACUSA, get you healed and fixed up. How does that sound?’

There were a few seconds of silence—and then every last bit of tension fell from Percival. ‘Thank you.’


	17. Prompt 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Anonymous:_ Theseus birthday is coming up and Percival is planning on baking a surprise cake, with purple icing. However, Percival was never the most sneaky or the best cook, so the icing gets everywhere and when Thes walks in on him he has to play it cool. "Why are your hands purple?" "That is a very good question."

‘Why are your hands purple?’ It was a ridiculous sight, really. Percival wore a pink apron that most definitely belonged to Newton and was standing in the kitchen, hands tinted with purple icing and something that resembled a … was it a cake? Whatever it was, it stood on the counter and looked rather sad.

Percival’s face was a delight. Shock was written across it, his mouth slightly open as if he wanted to say something. ‘That. That is a very good question.’ Ah, he could actually say something. But that wasn’t an answer.

Theseus had an inkling what this was all about—he wasn’t stupid. But why shouldn’t he take the opportunity and tease Percival a bit? Suppressing a smirk, he said, ‘Care to answer it?’

‘Well, you see …’ Percival trailed off, obviously searching for an excuse as to why he was in the kitchen, in the middle of the day, trying to bake a cake. It wasn’t even a stupid idea—he couldn’t possibly have known that Theseus’ plans to have lunch with the Goldsteins and his brother had been canceled due to Queenie becoming sick.

‘Yes?’ He prompted gently. It got harder and harder to hold back the laugh that was bubbling up his chest at the face Percival was pulling. He looked even more stressed than when he was working on a difficult case. Finding a suitable excuse had to be really hard.

‘Well,’ Percival started again, hands nervously fidgeting with the hem of the apron that clashed awfully with his pristine suit underneath it. ‘Uhm … You see … There was … this … accident?’

‘Accident.’ Now Theseus couldn’t contain himself anymore. A barking laugh escaped him and he had to brace himself on the counter to not topple over with mirth. ‘Accident he says! Yeah, that poor cake looks right like an accident!’

Percival’s face fell—he looked rather hurt and immediately Theseus stopped laughing. A small smile still played at his lips when he walked over and stopped in front of his friend. His expression was fond when he brought up a hand and cupped Percival’s cheek who still looked at him like Theseus had offended his mother.

‘The cake looks perfectly fine, Scamander!’ He growled and turned away from Theseus’ hand. But Theseus was quick to trap his face between his two palms, making Percival face him.

‘It does. For a cake that has spent a month in the trenches. I remember you looking a bit like this when we came back to the camp,’ he teased.

‘This is the last time I try to surprise you for your birthday. And definitely the last time I’ll bake for you.’ Theseus couldn’t believe what he saw right now. Percival Graves, Director of Magical Security, Auror extraordinaire, survivor of the Great War … was pouting. It looked quite adorable.

With a smile he placed a kiss on Percival’s nose before resting their foreheads together. ‘The cake may be looking atrocious but I bet it still tastes delicious. How could it be any different? You made it after all.’


End file.
